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On the surface, the line of two-room dwellings on a dusty street in west Delhi appears little different from thousands of other roads in
India's crowded capital. The paint flakes off buildings' walls and the grass grows in parks
that haven't been mowed in months. Kids play cricket in the street, fruit and
vegetable sellers push their wooden carts through narrow lanes and
women busy themselves with housework and cooking. What sets this
impoverished community apart is one remarkable absence: men.

C-block, or the "widows' colony," as it is more commonly known, is where Surinder Kaur, 65, lives today after she sold her house in Sagarpur and moved next door to her sister Harjinder Kaur, 57, a few years ago. Every
morning, the women have tea together in a two-room house, where the
only picture is of a newlywed Harjinder and her husband, killed
25 years ago in one of the darkest chapters in Indian history. (See pictures of India's tempestuous Nehru dynasty.)

The widows' colony in Tilak Vihar is a cheaply built and neglected
cluster of homes, which were given by the government to hundreds of women and
their children who survived what have become known as the anti-Sikh riots of 1984. But as the grim event's 25th anniversary nears at
the end of this month, crime, addiction and prostitution have taken
root in what was supposed to be a survivors' safe haven. Residents say this is
because of the damage to the mental health of children who were
witness to their parents' and siblings' murders and who grew up in
impoverished homes and weren't given any medical help  physical
or mental  for their problems. "They'll slice a blade right
through you if they know you're new to the area," warns Harjinder. "Even the autorickshaw drivers refuse to come here."

Devender Singh, 26, an unemployed drug addict whose father was killed
before his eyes in 1984, says his brother was murdered in the colony a couple years ago and that it's likely he'll meet the same fate. "We're all thieves and addicts here," he says. "When you get no work, what else will you do?" The lawless attitude of the young people is an echo, residents say, of India's broken justice system. The young people saw no punishment for the crimes committed against their families, so they see no justice for the crimes they'll commit in the future.

The anti-Sikh riots were four days of mayhem in the northern
parts of India, particularly Delhi, in which armed mobs set fire to
Sikh homes and businesses, killed unarmed men, women and children and
attacked gurdwaras, Sikh places of worship. The violence, which left
almost 3,000 people dead, was a reaction to the assassination of the
country's Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi, on Oct. 31, 1984, by her two
Sikh bodyguards, Beant Singh and Satwant Singh. Earlier, in June, Gandhi had approved Operation Bluestar, a mission to flush
out Sikh separatists who had amassed weapons in the Golden Temple in
Amritsar in northern India. While the operation was considered a
success, almost 500 Sikh civilians visiting the temple that day were
killed by the Indian army, though unofficial reports suggest numbers
much higher. (Read TIME's coverage of the riots' aftermath.)

Surinder Kaur was at her home in Delhi when the rioters broke in. Diwali, the biggest festival of the season, had just ended, but she and her husband had left the lights around the house up. In just 15 days, their eldest son was getting married, and the celebrations were already getting under way. Then a mob of more than 2,000 people descended on their middle-class neighborhood, killing dozens of Sikh families and burning alive Kaur's soon-to-be-married son and husband with petrol from the family's motorbike. "It's like a cyclone came through our lives and ripped it apart," she says. "We've never celebrated another festival since."